


and i'll plant a name for you

by sannlykke



Series: 戦国奇跡 [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Can you tell I love these yet, Gen, Mentions of AoKise, More sibling angst, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Warring states period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sannlykke/pseuds/sannlykke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On palace halls and garden walls, and the inevitability of growing up.</p><p>(They fight, they scream, they lose, but at least they have each other.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i'll plant a name for you

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching Game of Thrones while writing the latter half of this and I think traces of a particular arc bled into it just a tiny bit. Oops?
> 
> (This might make slightly more sense if you read The Moon Remembers, but...hopefully it's clear enough that you don't need to.)

Satsuki is going to yell at him again.

The halls are empty, empty, empty. In this wing of the palace live those who are kept out of sight, and while Daiki does not live here, he finds himself wandering in more often than not. It is where he probably belongs, after all.

Beyond the sweet-smelling doors of the concubine quarters, beyond the dark hallways where servants rarely ventured unless necessary, is a garden. Many gardens dot the vast expanse that comprise the palace grounds, but this one is special in the way that it is actually maintained by someone other than hired landscapers. A little stream threads through the middle of the greenery, curling ferns and daisies lining its length, stopping only where stones jut out from beneath. On the right grow herbs and other vegetables for the kitchen, and the left side is, more or less, Daiki’s personal playground.

It had happened like this: he’d taken a wrong turn after being chased by the calligraphy master for throwing ink at a servant, and stumbled through the door into tall grass. Daiki had been six, and most of the garden had just been an overgrowth of wildflowers fenced in by tall stone walls. He moved cautiously, but not cautiously enough, and had scared millions of grasshoppers into flight. 

It was love at first sight.

Now he is sixteen, too old to ignore the trappings of living in an imperial palace, too old to _be_ ignored.

“I’m not marrying,” he’d told Satsuki, stubbornly. _Before you do_ was left at the tip of his tongue, teetering.

“You’re such an idiot, Dai-chan,” she’d replied after the courtiers had cleared the room. “Do you think you can get away with it forever? Mother would say—”

“ _She’s not my mother!_ ”

They’d fought, and here he is again.

That had hurt. He’d seen it on her face, and couldn’t lie to himself that it was the first time he’d done something like this. Daiki is much too tall to hide in the grass now, and the wind stings. _Usui_ had come and gone, but it is not quite yet the season for everything to sprout from the ground.

When was the last time he came here? Their duties had grown tenfold as they aged, two children out of the potential hundreds that could have filled up the palace walls, but it seems heaven has other plans. Satsuki is older, even if by a few moons, daughter of the rightful empress. And he…

He feels a drop of rain tickle his back.

 

* * *

 

Satsuki finds him hiding behind the cherry tree. It is simple deduction, really; Daiki wasn’t in his room, or the main kitchens, or the dojo adjoining the imperial shrine. He’d taken her to the garden in the back a number of times, and her intuition is never wrong.

She could already see the faintest traces of pink and green on the branches, most of it securely inside, with a few branches reaching over the garden wall. Soon the cherry blossoms would be here, and with that, a chance to go outside.

Hiding isn’t exactly the best description of what Daiki is doing; his legs are splayed carelessly, arms crossed behind his head. Satsuki approaches cautiously, her footsteps light in the steady drizzle. But Daiki’s instincts are as good as hers; he turns around, catching her with her hands up. She brings them to her sides swiftly, face growing hot. “Dai-chan!”

“Ah, you’re not going to leave me alone, are you.” His words come out annoyed, but Satsuki could hear a palpable relief hiding there. She moves closer, hoping the branches would grant her some reprieve from the rain. “…You’re going to get wet.”

“I already am, in case you haven’t noticed.” Satsuki sits down on the other side of the tree, gathering up the hems of her kimono. She would be reprimanded later for getting her clothes soiled, but at this point she couldn’t really care less. They are both creatures of obstinacy, but in the end she relents. “What I said back there—“

“Forget it,” comes the begrudging, muffled reply. Then, quieter, “…Sorry.”

“You were.” It is enough of an apology, for now. She looks up at the greying sky, drawing her legs up in a huddle. “I…shouldn’t have said that, either.”

“Mm.” 

They sit for a while longer, the rain slowly but steadily drenching their robes. This had always been Daiki’s garden, the place he ran away to again and again. Satsuki is welcome here, but it was rarely a place she came of her own accord. And there is but one patch of earth she would come exclusively for. “What if I never marry?”

“Suit yourself.”

He sounds bored, but Daiki sounds like that _all_ the time. Satsuki reaches around the tree and pinches him with all the air of an expert, earning a soft _hey_. “I’m being serious, Dai-chan! I mean, what if. What will you do then?”

His silence could be read plainly— _that will not happen_. Still, Satsuki is unamused when he tries to change the subject. “Don’t you have more important things to worry about?”

“I could ask you the same question.” The mud squelches beneath her as she stands up, wobbling, slender fingers grasping the branches for support. “I’m going inside.”

She half-expects him to follow, as she weaves through the trampled weeds that had grown more rampant in the time she’d been gone. Before she can go in, there is something else she needs to see.

Satsuki stops in front of a circle of earth, hidden among the reeds near the small stream. It was here that she had planted her first flower, many years ago. She bends down, touching the dying flowers, their colors fading in the rain. Behind her come the sound of footsteps.

“Do you think they’ll live again?”

Daiki does not answer.

 

* * *

 

_It was Satsuki who had came up with the idea. Daiki was enthusiastic in his agreement, and together they weeded out a small patch near the stream for their experiments. It had not been without incident—the day was on the cusp of summer, with the songs of myriad creatures filling the air between them. The first day had ended with Satsuki pushing him into the stream for the frog he’d carefully placed on her head._

_The second day fared better._

_He watched Satsuki plant her first flower, a daisy, for her eighth birthday. There were seeds reserved for both of them as they swept through the patch, begging the imperial gardeners for advice. Roses, camellias, daffodils. Birthdays, memorials, Daiki’s first successful hunt, Satsuki’s first adult kimono. They had planned to plant a tree together, a peach tree to keep the cherry tree company, but they argued about_ when _to plant it so much that they eventually forgot._

_(White chrysanthemum bushes lined the perimeters, nine in all. They had planted those together too, solemnly, but Daiki never liked to think about them.)_

_Not everything survived, of course, but they kept it up for years. Where one plant withered away another took its place, cycling through species until the courtiers and servants and duties sprung multitudes them like bamboo shoots after the rain, and the flowers eventually stopped blooming._

 

* * *

 

He arrives in a flurry of crimson, the walls echoing with not footsteps but murmurs. Daiki watches from behind a pillar as Akashi Seijuurou walks through the courtyard, a smattering of retainers always a few steps behind. Rakuzan is not far from the Imperial Palace, and while he is second cousin to the Emperor, Akashi rarely comes with such pomp. One could ascribe many meanings to it, Daiki knows, including the one he does not want to be true. But now they are twenty and then some; the country is going to hell, and the emperor is only going to grow older.

(This is the price they pay, songbirds inside a gilded cage. He had run away clean across the country when he was eighteen, but eventually things fell back in place. They always do.)

Something inside his heart goes taut as he watches Akashi enter the emperor’s private quarters, doors closing tight behind.

“Do you think…” Satsuki walks up beside him, her face unreadable. She had always filled in her clothes, but now she is taller, the curves of her body apparent even under her kimono of pink and gold. Daiki remembers how the room had gone silent during their coming of age ceremony, then filled with praises and prayers. Her voice drops low, bright eyes flashing anxiousness. It has been a while since they’ve spoken like this, he realizes. “Micchan said Akashi-kun is here for my hand.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Daiki doesn’t want to think about it. Maybe he is wrong, and this is nothing more than a diplomatic visit. Other daimyo do it all the time—his thoughts wander, to the somewhat harassed retinue from Odawara the year before, and the daimyo’s son with that haunting look—why would Akashi be any different? He resumes ignoring the obvious.

 

* * *

 

 _You should know by now you can’t protect me forever,_ she says to him, fingers wrapped tightly around the collar of his kimono. The tears in her eyes threaten to spill; as much as he would like to believe he’s become desensitized, he isn’t. _I won’t say no. I can’t, I won’t, and you—_

Daiki has a vague notion that someone is watching them, but he pushes her hand away and runs into the courtyard, footsteps louder and louder in his ear.

 

* * *

 

Fall is upon them, and fast. Daiki has grown almost as tall as the walls surrounding the garden, giving him the ability to look out at the shimmering red and gold maple in the distance. As if a fire is consuming the city—consuming _him_. There are worse fates.

“I take it you are not happy with my current proposal,” comes a voice from behind, so soft it makes him jump. As unwilling as he is, Daiki forces himself to turn towards Akashi, who is standing at the door. He makes no motion to invite the other in, and Akashi only smiles briefly. “I expected that, you know.”

“I’m sure you do,” Daiki tells him, looking away. “It’s Satsuki’s choice, not mine.”

That much is true; she would never listen to him, anyway. Not anymore. It is not as if they had never met each other before, as all three are the same age and living only a few hours’ journey apart. Satsuki had always been gentle with Akashi around, and for his part Daiki only remembers putting wasabi into his guest’s tea when he was thirteen.

“And the other one…” Akashi trails off, shifting his weight as he leans against the doorframe. “ _You_ will succeed your father now. Don’t forget that.”

Whatever reply he was nursing dies in his throat. Daiki stares at his receding back, at how Akashi just saunters away, his robes billowing out like a signal flare. A single browned leaf falls onto his shoulder.

“I know,” he tells the empty door. The garden is still.

 

* * *

 

(How many whispers does it take to fill up the palace walls?

His first memories were of a nurse holding him roughly, poking and prodding at his skin so much that he cried day in and day out. An endless stream of faces, or no faces at all, he could not remember but _heard—_

“—a mistake, the child is a mistake—”

“—some peasant woman taking advantage of his inability—”

“—not fit to be a prince—“

“—at least we have a spare—“

And he had forgotten about them, forgotten the tiny windowless room he was kept in, forgotten the crooning of someone he never knew, forgotten the solemn look on his father’s face, forgotten—)

 

* * *

 

 _I should’ve known better_ runs through her head as she walks through the courtyard numbly, watching her husband-to-be approach. Satsuki had heard nothing from the meeting, having left before her word was considered—she laughs inside, _when could it ever be_ —and she already knows the answer. Perhaps all the years of war had offended the heavens, and nothing the priests did could quell that anger. The imperial family had dwindled, and she could not remember every nameless child that had come and gone through these halls.

“Akashi-kun,” she says, bowing. When she looks up, she sees him assessing her carefully. “Is there a problem?”

“No, Momoi-san,” replies Akashi, then nods towards where he’d just come. “Although I believe there is one over there. Best of luck.”

“Thank you.” She gives another bow, more hurried this time, and dashes off through the hall. No time for formalities, now; if her betrothed is put off by such a show, he is going to have to deal with it.

Her footsteps slow as she approaches the hallway, the door at the end left ajar. Of course. Satsuki imagines him running off to Odawara again, but that only causes more knots in her stomach. _Stupid Dai-chan, always making me worry._ They are adults now, but somehow she worries more than ever.

She recalls their lessons; while Daiki had never lived quite up to their master’s standard in _attendance,_ he does have a knack for history, and Satsuki could quite safely say he is better with a weapon than any guard in the palace. Her marriage would be a compromise, but that word has never been existent in Daiki’s vocabulary.

Sometimes Satsuki hates being always right.

“How long are you going to keep your back towards me?”

She takes a step forward. One, two, three. Satsuki could hear, even before her words escape her mouth, her voice breaking. Impulsively, she reaches up and plucks the golden comb from her head, and her hair flowed wild on her back. The comb she drops into the wet dirt, a metal flower in a dying garden. Were she as hideous as those words sound to her right now—

“Are you even listening? _Daiki, I’m still here—_ ”

“Satsuki.”

She doesn’t know who is more afraid when she feels arms around her, but at least that remains.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps they will be like this for the rest of their lives. Daiki doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know, maybe, but here they were.

They sit in her room, Satsuki with her back on the wall, both of them having requested absence from dinner. Petulance has a price, and that they will pay off some other time. Daiki could almost see Akashi’s face floating in front of him, saying in that gentle, knowing voice of his, _I understand._

Daiki wants to punch him, but he too understands.

“Are you…really fine with it?”

Satsuki looks up at him, her eyes red and her skin raw. Daiki has not seen her with her hair down like this since the ceremony. But at his words something else glimmers there. “It will make things a lot easier.”

That much is true. Daiki is not good at biting his tongue, but the events of the day force him to. An act that will not go unnoticed, he’s sure.

“Dai-chan.”

“Mm?”

She sighs. “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“We did.” Satsuki looks at him with pursed lips, as if surprised he remembers. Four years is not such a long time, in the grand scheme of things, and now the grand scheme of things is all they live for. Perhaps he is not half as bad at this as everyone seems to think he is—he _knows_. There had never been children in the confines of this palace. “Better forget about that one.”

_Forget about what I didn’t say._

She heaves a pillow at him, the beans inside rolling around like falling water. The stream, the grass, the sky, it comes back to him clearly now. A man behind a veil, a whisper of a name, his knees raw and bruised from kneeling before the altar. Daiki looks up at the ceiling, at the wooden beams, the dust that had gathered there floating in the dying sunlight. There are countless places he’d rather think of, not least of all in those eyes he had drowned in not three years past. Already that feels as if a thousand years ago, and Daiki does not call forth his name.

What good would it be anyway? He tumbles the pillow back in his sister’s direction, imagining the beans spilling everywhere. Ah, whatever.

“I guess I’ll just have to take it, no?” _You're always right._

Satsuki seems to hesitate before she reaches out and hugs the pillow back into her chest.

“It’s true, isn’t it,” she says, a smile flitting across her face for a split second. There is no mistaking that tone; she knows what he had been about to say, and takes that in lieu of an apology. Daiki makes a noncommittal noise. “Father won’t be happy.”

“I’m sure,” he replies blithely, learning. “But it’s better than nothing, isn’t it.”

 

* * *

 

(once, long ago, he would’ve scoffed at the idea of a throne, a keep, an eternal dream, but,

if it is a dream, it is _his_ dream after all, looming large among countless others, hard to contain and even harder to forget, that if he believes,

so perhaps—)

 

* * *

 

Satsuki wakes up to a hand on her face. She would've screamed, but she only ends up kicking Daiki in the face. “Did you burn down something?”

“What? No!” He seems genuinely aghast that Satsuki even mentions changing it, but it only shows how bad of a liar he is. Alright, maybe she shouldn't have assumed that, but still. It is strange enough for him to even wake up before she does, but today is, after all, a big day. _Her_ big day. "I just. There's something...I want to show you."

“You better have a good reason for dragging me out here,” is all she says as she tugs at her tangled hair. “It’s cold. I don’t think Akashi will be happy if I show up sick.”

“Forget about him for now.” _You’re going to think about him for the rest of your life, starting today._ Satsuki can hear it; her brother is getting better at this, but still not as good as her. The sun is yet a smear of pink and purple hues over the horizon, and she can hear the servants rattling their buckets in the distance. No matter now; she quickens her footsteps to keep up with Daiki’s long strides.

“You know, he’s not as bad as you think he is.” When they reach the garden the sun has risen imperceptibly, showering just the slightest bit of gold on their heads. She runs towards their flower patch before he can say anything, scanning the ground for any new sprouts.

At first she does not see anything. Then, a metallic glint, and she sees her comb catch fire in the sun’s first rays. Behind it, a tree.

A sapling, really, its leaves tiny and green and the dewdrops on it glistening little pearls. For all her book knowledge Satsuki doesn’t know enough about trees to discern what type this one is, and when she turns to Daiki she swears he is trying his hardest to not smile. _Fine, then,_ she thinks, and she says, “I didn’t see this last time I was here, though.”

“…I dunno, maybe a couple days after that day,” Daiki says, flustered. “We moved it from the other side yesterday.”

Satsuki catches on before he can realize his mistake. “ _We_?”

“……”

“Oh.” She can barely contain _her_ smile. “Akashi caught you, didn’t he.”

No amount of protest can shake her from that belief now, as they argue up and down in staged whispers as to not attract in any more unwanted visitors. Of course it would come down to this; Satsuki kneels down against the earth as she feels the sun’s warmth on her skin, tangled hair momentarily forgotten. The smooth leaves rub against her fingers, and she notices specks of color all around her.

It is spring, after all, when memories sprout from the ground.

“Oh, Dai-chan,” she says dramatically, and falls face-first into the dirt. She will have to be bathed later, anyway. Satsuki can hear him snort, but soon she feels a lump next to her. “Please tell me it’s a peach tree.”

For the first time in a long, long while, Daiki turns to grin at her. “Whatever you say, Satsuki.”

**Author's Note:**

> Historical Notes;
> 
> \- Usui usually occurs around Feb. 19. It is one of the solar terms that denote the seasons, “rain water,” occurring after the traditional start of spring, risshun (Feb. 4), and before hibernating insects awaken (keichitsu, Mar. 6.)  
> \- Before the Imperial Household Law was passed in 1889, female members of the imperial family had the ability to inherit. The last empress to do so was Go-Sakuramachi in 1762.  
> \- This is a disclaimer re: a lot of the politics in this story, especially the formalities, is probably inaccurate for sake of plot, though it is true that the real power did lie with the shogun instead of the emperor during the Tokugawa period. RL Sengoku Jidai politics are hella interesting though.
> 
> Taking a break from sibling feels for the next installment (as I've run out of siblings anyway.) I have AoKise and AkaMomo somewhat vaguely planned, as well as another monstrous, multichapter historical fantasy AU, but we'll see when that happens.


End file.
